


The Pact

by Khemi



Series: The Corruption of Jake English [1]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Breathplay, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Demons, Demonstuck, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Violence, Soul Bond, Xenobiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khemi/pseuds/Khemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can't save her without my help, and you <em>know</em> it," he murmurs, all trace of a smile gone from the words. "Make a pact with me, Jake. Don't worry... You won't live to regret it."</p><p>That's either a threat or a promise, but you can't tell which, your fingers finding the coarse hooks and specks of raised concrete behind you and curling against them. He has you cornered like a rat, and he's just waiting to eat you up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pact

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, written based on [this picture](http://khemi.tumblr.com/post/76145017905/dont-worry-you-wont-live-to-regret-it) from Chofi's Demonstuck AU, which I saw and absolutely adored. Beta'd by the lovely [Gobetti](http://gobetti.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Jake's POV.

You wouldn’t be here if you had a choice.

Or maybe you _would_ , but armed with a gun and a will to destroy the man- the _thing_ inside. The _thing_. You can’t humanise it, that’s part of what’s left you such a mess, part of why you’ve had so many opportunities and your finger has always hesitated on the trigger.

It did a blasted good job of weaseling its way into your mind while you were looking the other way, every well timed smile and word and wink serving to let affection creep deeper into your thoughts until you were left hating him - _unquestionably_ hating him - but in the same breath never wanting to actually see his end.

If it- he- does die, it will be by your hand, you are certain, and if you are to die it will be by his.

The longer this dance goes on, though, the less you feel like it will ever end. The music has been building to a crescendo in the depths of your soul, but here and now as it breaks over you and wraps you in a tumultuous finale, you are beginning to realise that the symphony was never to climax in your death.

No.

No, it was always leading you through the inevitable steps towards something much, much worse.

The door creaks as you push it open, the warehouse dusty and bare inside, or at least as much of it as you can make out that isn’t swallowed by shadows. It looks like it hasn’t been disturbed in years, the blood on the floor long dried and the meathooks thick with dust where they gently sway from the ceiling in a breeze through a broken window - but you know better. You’ve been here before, you’ve _ruined_ it, and seen the way it always seems to return to how it was. You’ve seen the way he roosts here in the darkness, and found the remains of those whose souls and bodies he feasted on, still hung up and gutted like the livestock the beast views them as.

_But not you, Jake. You’re different._

The unwanted voice, an echo from a memory, sends a shudder down your spine.

Yes, you’re _different_. He wouldn’t bless you with such an easy end.

As you move further in, your eyes begin to adjust, taking in the sparse moonlight and forming the shadows before you into shapes you recognise, shelves and hooks and crates all slowly solidifying from the vague shade. There’s nothing humanoid lurking in your growing field of vision, but that means nothing. You know he’s here. He _has_ to be.

Dammit, you never thought you’d be this desperate to _see_ him. You’re used to praying that he _doesn’t_ appear, but here and now…

You’d do anything to make sure he comes, now. You can’t even begin to imagine what you could do if he doesn’t.

Oh, if Jane saw you now…

But that’s it, that’s why you’re _here_. Jane… You should have been more careful, should have stayed with her, but you were a fool and let her go on alone and now you have three demons at _least_ to compete with before you can get her back.

It _should_ be _four_ , but you have a feeling Dirk has kept out of this for a reason; the very reason that has you standing here in his lair, unarmed and collecting your nerve beneath the rattling hooks that make your neck prickle unpleasantly. It would be so easy for him to string you up like the others, to cut your throat and swallow your blood before he devours your soul. You were certain he wouldn’t, but here you find yourself doubting it, doubting _him_ , wondering if all those heated glances and lingering touches were nothing more than a ploy to get you here so he could show you you’re not different at all as he kills you like any other victim.

The horrible thoughts still your tongue and make you waver, thinking of how easy it would be to turn and run and pretend you never came here, but then they all pale in the face of a harsher memory of Jane’s face as she screamed for your help, moments before she was taken from you altogether.

No.

This is something you _have_ to do.

You have to try, at least.

For her.

"...Dirk?" Your voice echoes, as you call out apprehensively, fingers curling into fists by your sides. "Dirk! I know you’re here. I…" You need to take a breath to calm yourself, before you manage to call out again, "I need to talk to you."

Nothing answers, except for the whistle of the breeze over broken glass, and that endless, unnerving rattling above your head. You swallow hard, closing your eyes and suppressing the feeling of fear that threatens to empty your twisting stomach over the floor.

"Dirk," you try again, but this time it only leaves you as a soft choke, barely a whisper, " _please_."

"So we’re on first name terms now, are we?"

He speaks just by your ear, and though you know he wasn’t behind you before, now you’re aware of him just _being there_ , his heated breath and the sound of his clothes rustling as he moves all abruptly present. It would make a weaker man jump, but you’ve been doing this too long. Your shoulders tense, but other than that you don’t move, beyond slowly opening your eyes and staring down at your shadows on the floor where they both merge into one larger shape.

"Yes, well," you mutter, unable to stop the hard edge creeping into your words as the thought of him near you while you’re so vulnerable makes your skin crawl, "you’ve been trying to get me to call you it for so long, haven’t you?"

"Sure, but you’ve always refused." God, the way his words ghost over the nape of your neck is even more distracting than they were on your ear, and it takes all your willpower not to bite your lip or make a sound. You expected this, of course. It’s something he’s always revelled in, his ability to unsettle you and make you feel the pull of temptations you are sworn away from, especially with _him_ of all people. "So why the change of heart, Jake? Strider lost its ring? Or is it something…" The demon pauses, and you _hear_ his cursed smile, see the glitter of his fangs in your minds eye as he breathes out a laugh against your skin. "... _else_?"

His superiority makes your knuckles go white as your nails bite into your palm, itching to meet his face and wipe his smug expression off of it. Another day, you would, you swear - but not today.

With a great deal of effort, you relax as best you can, avoiding turning to face him. It hardly helps. You’ve thought about his face so often it’s burned into your mind’s eye, and though your fantasies - both heroic and corrupted - are beyond your control, his face is something you familiarised yourself with out of _choice_ , at first. It’s best to know the enemy, you thought, right up until the enemy began appearing in dreams you would rather deny you’ve ever had.

You can see the way his brows rise and his dark eyes sparkle with unnatural fire, see his fingers hover just above your shirt, tracing the shapes of your back through it with the tips of his claws. You know his smile and laugh and the expression he holds when he knows he has you _beaten_.

You see all of it without turning around, and it is a testament to how deeply he has ingrained himself in your psyche that you do it without wanting to, and aren’t sure if the vision makes you angry or something… _worse_.

"You know why I’m here," you gamble softly, and Dirk snorts, staying far too close for comfort.

"Of course I do. I’ve been _expecting_ you. Where else were you going to go?"

He was probably watching you all the way here, knowing him. He likes to follow you, to appear when it’s most dramatic, or _ironically appropriate_ , as he puts it. You’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve ended up alone, only to find him suddenly with you. The number of places you’ve sat down to drink, only to find him waiting on the stool beside you with your drink of choice already in his disguised, human hands.

His invasion of your life started subtly, but is now a complete saturation that leaves every part of it either marred by his presence or somehow _reminding_ you of him.

You think what you are here for has been planned a long time, looking back on it. That he’s been preparing you since before you even realised such things were _possible_. That each possessive look and bruise and scar were just him marking what he always knew would be _his_.

You denied it so long, but here you are.

Driven at last to what you always promised to avoid.

"Poor little Crocker," Dirk whistles, and you wince as the sound drives through your head like a knife. "I can’t _imagine_ what they’re doing to her right now, bro. Real fucked up shit, probably. Keeping her alive as long as possible so they can make her feel all the pain she’s ever caused them, driving her to the brink over and over until she _snaps_ -" Talons drag down your spine, and though you want to move away you grit your teeth and stay perfectly still, but for a shudder that chases his touch down your body. "Oh, they’ll be making Janey _scream_ , Jake. Scream and beg until it’s _her_ who asks them to end it, it’s her who gives up her soul because she’s too broken to take another minute of-"

"Stop!" God, _no!_ The images are too much, and you shake your head violently to try and disperse them. "Dirk, _enough_ , please, I can’t…"

"It was your fault she got taken, right? You should’ve watched her better, Jake." He’s taunting you, _mocking_ you, and there’s nothing you can do that won’t ruin your chances of getting her back. "She’s probably calling out for you, knowing you’re gonna come save her, knowing you’ll do _whatever_ it takes. Are you going to let her down?"

"No," you whisper back, and then you finally build up the courage you need, turning to face him. He’s just as youthful and handsome as he ever is, and the expression on his face is exactly what you expected, fangs bared in a cruel smile and vivid eyes bright with an unearthly glow. "No. You know why I’m here and- and I will do what I _must_. She deserves safety more than… more than I…"

"More than you value your own soul?" The demon leans closer as he supplies it, your breath hitching at the invasion of what little personal space you had left. You take a step back, and he follows, advancing on you slowly as you back away. "Let’s not mess around, Jake, you came here to get what you need to save her, but we both know I ain’t giving you shit for free. Nah, there’s a price for my help, and you _know_ what it is." You _do_ know, but it doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow, your heart beating an uncomfortably fast drum in your chest as you stumble backwards and absently grope for the handle of a gun that isn’t there. "So drop the bullshit and just agree to the terms you know I’m gonna demand, ‘cause you and I both know you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t already made up your mind."

Though Dirk is right, doubt is biting at your heels again, flaring up into panic as your back meets a cold, rough wall. The uneven concrete catches and drags at your jacket as you press your back against it, flinching as Dirk leans forward, moonlight catching him from behind as his form bathes you in shadow.

You can't face him, not like this. With a swallowed growl you turn your face away, crushing your eyes shut and gritting your teeth in a bitter attempt at stopping yourself instinctually lashing out. Dirk moves nearer, until his breath puffs against your ear and cheek, a tremor of what you insist is disgust making the wall scrape you again.

"You can't save her without my help, and you _know_ it," he murmurs, all trace of a smile gone from the words. "Make a pact with me, Jake. Don't worry... You won't live to regret it."

That's either a threat or a promise, but you can't tell which, your fingers finding the coarse hooks and specks of raised concrete behind you and curling against them. He has you cornered like a rat, and he's just waiting to eat you up.

"We don't have forever, Jake," Dirk prompts. When you find yourself still locked in thoughts of how you could avoid this, how you could save her without him, he sighs and tuts. "It's the only way. Come _on_ , it'll be so _easy,_ just say yes and we can save her and I can give you _everything_ you want. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To see Jane safe? It's just one little yes, Jake..."

The words are sweet and easy to accept, gently coaxing your mind to submit as his voice flows with mesmerising tones. It would be so easy to give in and just agree, to let his voice wash all your fears away, but you _can't_.

You're stronger that that.

Dirk shudders as your eyes snap open and you force him out of your mind, a skill honed over your years of hunting him and his kin. He looks briefly shocked, then smiles broadly, eyes lighting up with new fire.

" _Damn_ , English, look at you go. Shutting me down like that... That's hella impressive." There's genuine excitement below his words, and God does it worry you. You curl your lip at him, but it does nothing to diminish his apparent glee. "If that's what you can do _now_ , just imagine all the things we could accomplish _together_. Saving Jane will be a breeze, and you could _easily_ make sure she never ends up in a place like that ever again."

Thoughts of her somewhere safe, somewhere you could _keep_ her safe and keep those damned beasts at bay, they're sweeter than his hypnotic words could ever have been. You've always been so scared for your family, your friends, and now those worries have come to fruition you would do _anything_ to be able to be rid of them altogether. You could keep Jane safe, and John and Jade, you could protect them all and some foolish part of your mind insists they would never have to know _how_...

But of course, they would realise. Is protecting them worth the corruption you would have to suffer for the cause?

What choice do you have? What else could you do?

The defiance in your gaze ebbs as the bleakness of your situation strikes you once more, and you slump back against the wall, drawing in a shaky breath as you cover your mouth loosely with the back of your hand. There _is_ no other option, there’s nothing you can do but submit to him, and even then you’re praying he’ll keep his word. You have to take the chance, though, you _must_. Jane needs you, and after all she’s done while you’ve hunted together, leaving her to her fate simply isn’t something you shouldn’t even have to _consider_.

No, you can’t hesitate any longer. You know what you came here to do, and it’s time to see it through.

"...Alright," you mumble, dropping your hand and avoiding his gaze. You couldn’t stand the victory in it, not now. "Fine. What do I have to do?"

"We have to connect, make a temporary bond that will act like a channel to make the pact permanent." Now you’ve agreed, he doesn’t even _try_ to hide the impatience or triumph in his voice. His claws trace your jaw, and though every fibre of you cries out to recoil and push him away, you swallow the bile in your throat and stomach it, knowing you just sacrificed your right to resist him. "The bond needs to be strong enough to be used, though, and you _know_ my powers are nothing gentle, not used like this."

"Just tell me what to do," you repeat, coldly, and he snorts as his hand grips your face and forces you to look at him. Your expression twists as you have to face how bright his eyes have flared in his excitement, how large a smile has spread over his pallid face. His claws stop just short of drawing blood from your skin, but they bite and sting, and after a moment you can’t help but hiss with discomfort.

"We’re running short on time and I don’t want you to fuck this up, so we’re gonna do it _right_. We’ll bond in blood and body, and you’ll fucking take it whether you want to or not."

Your mind catches on memories of blood bonds and what they involve, your fingers twitching as you anticipate the wound that will soon mark your skin. It takes you a second to catch up to the second bond, and as soon as it does your expression turns disbelieving and disgusted, your hand seizing his wrist and dragging his claws from your face.

" _Body?_ No! I’ll do a _lot_ of things for this, but I _refuse_ -" A shudder goes down your spine at the _thought_ of him touching you like that. "Blood should be _enough_ , Strider! I absolutely _won’t_."

" _Bullshit_. We both know it won’t be," Dirk responds, not losing his pleased expression. If anything, he looks even _more_ manically pleased at your resistance. "Blood bonds are shaky if everyone isn’t fully committed to them, and you might not have a choice but that doesn’t mean you _want_ this. We have to do both to be certain, and right now you can’t afford _any_ chance of this failing."

For as long as you can, you hold your expression of absolute revulsion, but he hasn’t stopped smiling or being _right_. Your breathing picks up, and as your face wavers it cracks to show how desperate you feel, how disturbed the thoughts make you, your eyes looking for any sign he’s lying, any sign there’s _another way_ , but finding nothing to free yourself from this fate.

You have no choice, and he _knows_ it.

Anger flashes through you, and your wide-eyed stare turns to a frustrated and furious glare. You don’t _want_ to do this, you don’t _want_ to give in to him, but you know this is all you have left. Dirk smirks and pulls his hand free, holding it out to you.

"Last chance, Jake. It’s now or never. Do we have a deal?"

Your lip curls as you look down at his waiting hand, the thought of shaking it and giving in _vile_. With a growl, you slap your hand against it, and Dirk’s fingers curl around your hand with an _unnecessarily_ hard squeeze. He reaches behind himself with his free hand, and when it appears again it’s holding an ornate pocket knife, the blade catching the silver-blue light of the moon along its wicked sharp edges.

When he slides the blade flat between your joined palms, you try not to flinch, try to stay defiant and not give him the satisfaction of your fear. Your gaze move from your interlocked hands, the handle flush against them, to his eyes, unsure which one you dislike looking at more. Dirk drags the moment out, watching you, a feral hunger in his eyes that you've never seen before, and it chills you to your core, makes you realise what you're about to sacrifice, but there's nothing you can do.

It's far too late for second thoughts, as if they could ever actually have helped you.

Without hesitating, once he’s pushed the silence as far as he can, Dirk sharply twists the knife and slices it out of your hands, pain flashing down your skin in its wake and tearing an involuntary gasp from your lips. You feel the air between you as he lets you bleed, feel the wet warmth well up and start to roll down your skin, and then his fingers force your palms together again, his infernal blood burning where it touches you. You grit your teeth and bear it, hearing him hiss in approval at the sensation.

The demon’s lifeblood sears your skin and mixes with your own, making your head spin and the borderline painful static of pins and needles spread up your arm. When Dirk is satisfied by the strength of the bond, he releases you, but before you can relax his bloody hand seizes your wrist and he drags your cut close to his face, a mixture of your blood and his rolling down your arm as he inhales deeply. The expression on his face is some kind of animalistic ecstasy, and with a hum of delight he flicks out his tongue, running the rough surface up the length of the wound and smearing blood and saliva across your skin.

His slick tongue curls around your fingers as you watch in nauseous hatred, and the mocking glint amongst his lustful stare leaves your fury swelling until you can’t resist it, angrily jerking your hand from his grip and curling it into a fist as it whips forward again to crack into his face.

He jerks away from you and covers his face, but before you have time to curse your action the demon starts to laugh between his fingers, dropping his hand and grinning wildly at you.

"So you wanna put up a _fight?_ " He asks, sounding nothing but excited, his blood smeared cheek only adding to the disturbing look in his eyes. "Go on, English. Make this _fun._ "

You want to argue, to deny him the pleasure, but all you actually feel is the rising urge to make him suffer to get what he wants, even though you both know it's inevitable. Before you’ve consciously decided to, you’re hitting him again, knuckles slamming up and into his cheek as his head snaps to the side before he rights it and throws a sharp hit into your stomach instead.

You’ve fought before, but you still aren’t fully prepared for how swift and vicious his blows are, and as you dodge and curse the wall that scrapes and catches at your jacket, his punches follow, cracking the concrete where they miss your head. You stumble around him, and after managing to land a hit to his jaw that has him coughing up blood, you attempt to run, already knowing how stupid it is but still wanting to _try_.

He lets you come so close to the door your fingers are practically touching it before you feel his claws tear through your clothes and dig into you back.

With a scream, you’re snapped backwards, and he throws you hard to the ground, dropping over you to straddle your waist as your grope up and crush his windpipe with one hand, the other punching hard over and over against the side of his skull. Your blood makes your fingers slip and slide as you try to grip him, and he rips your hand free, pressing it to the ground with an equally wet palm before he turns his head to meet your next blow and sinks his teeth into your wrist instead. You struggle and your fingers twitch as that only makes the demon clench his jaw tighter around your limb, causing more pain to bolt up your nerves like lightning. With a scream you force your shaking limb to still, but the feeling of his tongue lapping up the blood that wells into his mouth is still almost too much for you to bear.

When he finally releases the bite, your arm falls and you struggle to regain feeling in it, growling when Dirk presses over you and pushes his bloody lips to your own. You taste your own coppery flavour in his mouth, and though you want to hate everything about this you can’t help how your body arches up when his tongue flicks at yours and his fangs graze your lip light enough they barely split it. His hand grabs a fistful of your jacket and start to force it off of you, dragging you up from the ground enough that when he lets go of your other wrist he can shove it from your shoulders completely.

You respond by shoving his top up and dragging your nails down his chest hard enough to leave vivid marks across it, and when the demon pulls his mouth from yours to strip it off completely you gasp for breath and seize his hips so firmly you know he’ll bruise in the shape of your hands. His shirt is barely pooling on the floor before you kick hard against the cold surface and force him over, crushing him to the ground with your bulkier form and hearing him hiss when you grab his hair and force his head back to leave bites and bruises across his pale neck, sinking your teeth into his flesh as hard as you can manage.

Dirk pulls his legs in and folds them around your waist, rutting up against you and letting out a sound that should not shoot down to your dick in quite the awfully pleasant way it does. You sit up and slap him for it, and all he responds with is a filthy smile before he painfully wraps his hands into your hair and drags you down to kiss him again, messy and metallic and unnervingly _right_.

You shouldn’t enjoy the way he squirms beneath you as much as you do, you shouldn’t enjoy his gasps and moans of pain and pleasure, and you _absolutely_ shouldn’t be thinking about how this compares to times you’ve been haunted by his body in your dreams.

You _shouldn’t_ , but you can’t help it, loathing the way your own lust betrays you as much as you loathe him for pushing you this far.

He claws at your top and you barely resist before you’re helping him pull it away, shuddering as you break the kiss to quickly drag it over your head. Dirk instantly drops his hands and leaves trails of fire down your skin as his talons etch his claim into your flesh, his head pushing up so the broad of his tongue can catch the blood that wells up from the wounds and drag up over the cuts with a cool wetness that sends small sparks up you, far less unpleasant than it should be.

You wish you hated all of this, but as his tongue and teeth travel up your bare chest the noises that escape you belie how much heat his actions are fanning within you. He coaxes louder moans from you until you seize his stupid pointed ears and wrench his head hard backwards, forcing it to the ground and panting as the demon watches you with a mocking smile, tongue flashing out to catch a bead of your blood that was escaping from the curved corner of his mouth.

Anger wells up in you as you look down at him. Anger at him for hurting you, for being your only option, for looking so fucking good when you just want to be repulsed. His hand slips between you and catches on the buckle of your belt, and with that fresh twist of fury you force it away, slapping him for trying and making his skull crack back against the floor with a sound that satisfies the dark corners of you that want to cause him pain. It does nothing to dim his smile, and when his eyes roll back down to you they burn all the brighter for your defiance, a hiss of pleasure leaving him as his claws rake down your arching spine instead.

You'd be damned even if you weren't here to make a deal with a devil, the sinful way everything about him floods you with desire unavoidable no matter how much you loathe it. With a frustrated grunt you crush your lips back to his, letting him fumble your belt open without further objections as your tongue is surrounded by the taste of your blood in his hot mouth. He plucks open the button of your jeans before you drop a hand to start pushing them down, and when his hands roam over the curves the denim covered he groans with anticipation, your muscles tensing beneath his fingertips.

Dirk seizes the opportunity to rut up again, pulling your hips down to grind your thinly covered erection against what you assumed was the bulge of his own, but now with less material between you you swear his feels softer, and like it's moving in inhuman ways beneath the taught fabric of his slacks. The undulating twists of whatever awaits you send shudders down your body, but you've given up on telling if they're from revulsion or arousal, everything blurring into one mess inside your foggy mind.

Whatever you feel, you have to go through with this. You may as well leave worrying about it until after the deed is done.

A more immediate worry distracts you as his talons slip under the waistband of your briefs, and you jolt your waist away from him, not wanting to imagine his razor claws anywhere near your delicate goods. Dirk snorts with amusement, dragging the tips of them down your thighs instead while you begrudgingly see to stripping off on your own.

"Wait-!" You blurt, feeling his hand wrap around your length while you're distracted with tugging your briefs free of your ankles. " _Dirk-!_ "

He hums back an affirmative answer as he starts to thrust along your shaft with the fresh blood on his palm slicking his motions, the soft pad of his thumb rocking over your slit with every moment as his claws thankfully stay away from your skin. A groan rumbles from your throat before you have a hope of silencing it, and you relax unconsciously into his touch, a welcome relief after the pain he was inflicting. You rock your hips into his hand and his other fingers ghost up your side, making you tremble with sensations that feel a world away from those same claws cutting you moments before.

Your mouth falls open as you shudder and twist away from him, trying to stay focused and not give in to the tempting desire to just let go and let him do what he wants with you, if it keeps feeling like this. You slowly bring yourself to take his wrist, stilling his hand long enough to catch your breath and collect your thoughts.

"I just want this over with," you mutter darkly at him, ignoring the amused quirk of his brow.

"Come on, Jake, does that really mean you can't _enjoy_ it?"

"Not with you," you answer, swiftly, and for the first time you see his smile falter, something unpleasant flashing through his eyes. "I'm here because I _need_ you, not because I _want_ you."

"Of course. Mister high and mighty, still claiming purity when he's bare before a damned and moaning out his name with more lust than he can blame on the moment." You shake your head at the words that lash out at you, and he laughs, cruel and void of mirth. "Don't worry, Jake, once we're through here you'll have _welcomed_ me into your soul, and it's only a matter of time after that before you _break_. Someday you'll come crawling back to me and _beg_ to be mine, and when you do you'll be so grateful to me for taking you after everything you've done to me."

"Liar!" You spit, and he reaches up to take hold of your face, yanking it closer and examining you like a judge appraising some dog on show.

"Why would I lie? It's the price you'll pay for my help, your eternal soul, and just because I'm not drinking it from you now doesn't mean it won't be mine." Dirk licks his lips, then smiles at you with red-stained fangs. "It's gonna be much more fun to watch the darkness fester and grow inside you, to watch you break from within, powerless to do anything but succumb. When I feast on you, you'll be aged like the finest wine, and I'll be sure to make it last as long as I can. I wouldn't want to waste you, Jake. You're different."

"You always say that!" Curiosity overtakes you, and it's not like you have anything left to lose, his words and promises chilling you as they creep beneath your skin. "You've always said- _Why?_ What's so different about me?"

"You're _interesting_ ," he responds like it's obvious. "You put up a _fight_ , but even though you've almost beaten me so many times I never had to creep into your mind to stop you. Something was already there that made you stop, wasn't it? You of all people who knows who - _what_ \- I am. You still stare at me with so much _want_ , when you think no one is looking."

The truth unsettles you, and you shake your head as best you can in his grip, but Dirk just snorts, leaning up to you and lowering his voice.

"Do you dream of me, Jake? Have you imagined this before? You can lie all you like, but you're different because I never had to _act_ to damn you; you damned yourself with every look and thought and false excuse to let me slip away. I'd run back to hell and you'd willingly follow, rather than lose me." The demon's thumb strokes over your cheek and you flinch, a horrified and ashamed flush bleeding further over your skin with every word. "You've been mine since you saw me, but not by _my_ doing. They say the purest souls are the ones that fall the hardest, but until I met you I never thought it was true... Look at you now, hunter. _Listen_ to you. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and how _noble_ you were when you came here. You're not on a road, you're sliding down a steep slope, and the only pathetic thing about it is you still honestly think you've got a chance of _stopping_ yourself."

"You're wrong," you croak back, but even your weak voice betrays how little you believe your own protest. "I- I'm not like that, it isn't true!"

"Sure it's not," Dirk croons, mockingly comforting, before he moves sharply and the world spins, your body landing painfully on the ground with him above you and pinning your limbs. "I'm sure you'll tell them that, when they smell me on you. Tell them how you were forced, how you regret it, how you'll hunt me to the ends of the earth in revenge... But that bullshit will only fly so far, before you'll hear the voices in your head telling you that this would never have worked if part of you didn't _want_ it. That all you'd been waiting for was an excuse to come to me, to get what you want under the guise of some lame heroic sacrifice so you could keep pretending to yourself you're still the champion of good other people always see."

"Stop," you plead, and you can't tell if he's inside your mind or if you just wish he was, can't tell if the words are burrowing into you through truth or manipulation. "Please, _stop_ , you're _wrong_."

"Only one of us is lying, Jake, and it ain't me." His head drops close to you, and he licks up your cheek, stopping at the warm wetness that's welled over from your eyes. With a little laugh, Dirk moves to your ear, nibbling it with his needle-point teeth before he breathes into it, "it'll be so much easier once you just admit the truth."

You refuse to reply, to give him what he wants from you, but Dirk doesn't seem to care. His mouth starts to leave marks down your neck in revenge for the bruises that dot his own, and you writhe and gasp in his grip, hips thrusting up with all the contained arousal that leaves you feeling sick as you realise it came from his foul, whispered words. You turn your head away in humiliation, struggling against his grip but doing little beyond scratching yourself against the cold floor, and making him hold your wrists with enough force to bruise them and cause the bite from before to sear with fresh, agonising pain.

When Dirk lowers his hips against yours and rocks, it's sickeningly perfect, your body jerking up to get more pressure and heat from him as you moan. You want to hit him or choke him or bite him in desperate fury and panic, but all you can do in that moment is arch willingly into his body, gasping out lewd sounds that make him laugh victoriously against your bruised and broken skin.

"Sure feels like you're enjoying it," he hums, and rather than argue you press yourself back against the ground, dragging over it and using the way it scratches over the wounds already in your back to keep you thinking clearly, drawing you out of the haze Dirk is intent on surrounding you with. Ignoring the pain, you fight and manage to free your wrists, landing a solid punch into his head and forcing him away from your neck.

The demon groans with pleasure at the blow, and one of his hands fixes around your throat instead, pressing down hard enough to choke you as the other drops to his slacks. You try and get the hand starving you of air to loosen, but tugging and clawing at his arm does nothing, and when lights start to flash at the edge of your glittering vision you desperately scratch at his chest and face, hearing him hiss and laugh as though he's at the other end of a long tunnel.

It's getting harder to keep your hands up, harder to think, and you're only dimly aware of him raising up and stripping below his waist, too focused on your attempts to breathe to care. You wonder bizarrely calmly if he's going to knock you out, or maybe even kill you, but no sooner have you thought it than his hand releases you in the same moment something thick and wet and smooth curls itself around your softening shaft and starts to pump and squeeze it in rhythmic motions.

You gasp for air, gulping down sweet oxygen as your head spins and your hips unreservedly buck up into the tight heat that surrounds you. Your nerves burn with feeling as you drop back into full consciousness, and Dirk's talons on your sides and his mouth against your jaw add to the intense surge of sensation that threatens to overwhelm you, all burning brighter as you finally get breath back to your brain. You moan between gasps, unable to hold it in, and the pulsing thing around you constricts with every sound that leaves you, driving you back towards the peak you'd almost hit before.

The pain that was distracting you seems to have paled away in the face of the pleasure he’s bringing you, and when your breathing calms to a more normal panting Dirk’s lips cover yours, sliding over them until you find yourself hungrily dragging him closer and deepening the embrace without him even needing to coax you into it. You bite at his lip and hiss when his teeth catch at your tongue, but he laps at the scratch and makes such a delicious sound at the taste that you can’t bring yourself to care about how it hurts.

It’s harder to care at all, now. You wonder if he’s done something to you, if something in his blood or his kisses has taken away the pain, or made it dim in some way. Before, his claws and teeth made you recoil and want to force him away, but now your body pushes towards the touches, no longer feeling like something you don’t want. The way you drag and scratch at him is only to pull him nearer, and you’re glad his mouth is occupied so he can’t taunt you for it, can’t keep speaking those damned truths you want to run from and refuse.

Abruptly, your wet shaft is left bare to the air, and you shudder at the cold, snapping your head back and choking before Dirk chases you down and silences you again. The length that was surrounding you slides over your skin and leaves a trail of fading warmth in its wake, slipping lower until you feel the sticky tip in the valley of your ass. It rubs you and slicks you completely before the probing apex seeks out where you knew he would aim eventually, making you tense up and try to stop it working its way inside.

Your resistance does little again the insistent, lubricated motions of his inhuman shaft, and as it starts to part you and slide in you’re just thankful it’s so narrow at the tip, spreading you with every undulating pulse that works it deeper. As the push starts to grow unbearable and he gives no sign of slowing his constant invasion of your body, you manage to get your hands on his shoulders and force him away, gasping and closing your eyes as you roll your head away and shudder with the feeling of being painfully pushed past your limit.

However good the hurt was feeling before, this seems just as bad as you imagined it would, if not _worse_. You can’t imagine how he could expect you to enjoy this at _all_. Your body shudders and twists beneath him, and as you hoarsely whisper for him to stop he just breathes heavily above you, answering with nothing but grunts and stifled groans.

You swear he's changing inside you, the smooth and thin length now feeling thicker and shorter all the way along. Ridges catch and grind against you inside, and when he finally seats himself in you to the hilt you feel a series of dull bumps you hate to think of as _spikes_ push inside you and seal him firmly in place.

Filled and left with the rolling pulse constantly washing through you, seeming to set all your nerves alight, you quiver and whimper, tears welling up in your screwed-shut eyes.

"Jake," Dirk hisses, his voice cutting through the fog of pain. "Look at me."

You won't, not like this! You shake your head desperately, trying to hide your facefrom him as you sob and kick and scratch at his chest.

" _Jake_ , you need to _look at me_."

It's a command, now, laced with power, but you fight it bitterly, trying to squirm your way out from under him in blind panic despite the pain dulling to an ache.

" _English_ ," Dirk snarls, and your feel his taloned hands seize your head, dragging it to face him. You growl back and seize his wrists, anger fighting through the fear and rearing its head as you think of hurting him as badly as he's hurt you. When he starts to dig his talons into your skin you cry out, finally submitting, opening your eyes and staring up into the glow of his as they loom above you in the dark.

For a moment, you feel nothing but fury, opening your mouth to force out some sharp response. Before you manage, something tightens in your chest, and the words catch in your throat, pain flashing behind your eyes and making your head spin like you’re falling even though you’re still trapped on the ground.

In the back of your head, your thoughts are parted and something black worms into the cracks, some sickly sweet presence that pools and oozes like oil around your thoughts and coats them with a thin sheen of _wrong_. You shake as his eyes spark and flare brighter, glow intoxicating and inescapable as he presses further inside your soul. You can feel him taking part of you, clawing it away, but as soon as the void appears he’s filled it completely with himself, an anchor that chains you together and leaves you feeling sick with the edge of brimstone and shadow that’s pumping in your blood and tainting you with every moment that passes.

Dirk drops his hands and you stay frozen, unable to make yourself move, body quivering in place. Time drags out, further and further, though you no longer have any sense of it passing; all you know is _him_ , overcoming you and marking you in a way you’ve seen on others and know his kind will be able to feel on you. You’re _his_ now, his prey, his bound, and now your soul is branded for him and him alone to claim.

You know he will, eventually, but now you’re aware of him, aware of his thoughts and his damned being lurking somewhere on the edge of your mind, you begin to think that maybe he never intended to consume you.

Somewhere in the shadows lurks a fate much worse.

Abruptly, you’re free, and you gasp and shudder as Dirk’s face breaks into a smile, his talons petting your hair back from your forehead with a tenderness now he’s trying not to harm what belongs to him. You hate the thought of being _owned_ in some way, but you knew that this was what you were cursing yourself to, you _knew_ this was the only option.

Now it’s done, though, all you can feel is regret. Quickly, you think of Jane again, that you did this for her, for all of the friends you need to protect; it makes it easier to breathe, to calm yourself, and a tenseness seems to lift from the body above you at the same moment you manage to relax.

"There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" Dirk asks breathlessly, and you _feel_ the fondness in his voice. It makes you nauseous, knowing it’s a sign of the bond, a sign that will never dim, now. "Well, Jake?"

"No," you choke quietly, knowing he won’t let you get away without answering. He flinches, and you realise he can feel your hesitation, feel all the turmoil inside you. With a few breaths you calm yourself again, and reluctantly accept he’s right, slumping against the ground as you answer more certainly, "no. It wasn’t."

Dirk shifts and you gasp as you feel him move inside you, your back arching up and your hands grasping up for his shoulders. The pain, the ache, has gone, and as he grinds his hips forward again you moan, feeling pleasure well up in you and echo through his presence, amplifying inside your head in a cycle that builds with every pulsing thrust of the shaft now starting to build up a beat inside, returning to the alien movements it had before.

Your nails rake at his back as you drag him closer, the mixture of your feelings and his hitting you like a sledgehammer and leaving all chances of thinking clearly broken and abandoned. All you want is _more_ , his hunger seeping out and blurring with your own as his hand presses between you and closes around your length. You don’t even remember to fear his claws, bucking your hips up into his touch as you feel it, groaning out at the heat that flares through you in response.

You thought that he’d drag this out, or that the bond would be made at your peak, some romantic notion that now lies abandoned in favour of the feral lust that has you both clawing and gripping at each other in an attempt to get closer, deeper, faster, _more_. You body writhes under his weight, and you manage to free your legs, instantly locking them around him and using them to pull yourself up against the pressure of his dick inside you. Its searching tip pokes and slides over your insides, until at last he finds what he’s looking for and your head slams back against the solid floor, a loud keen leaving you and white flashing before your eyes.

You feel the form within you change, and a new ridge form that hits over and _over_ , making it hard for you to do much but gasp for breath until his mouth presses to your lips and steals even that from you. You breathe heavily through your nose as you kiss messily back, blood and saliva serving to make your mouths slide across one another in your frantic attempts to join them, your tongues and teeth adding roughly to the desperate motions while you feel yourself building quicker and quicker in his palm.

Your muscles tense and you feel him growing jerkier in his motions, unable to tell if your pleasure is affecting him or the other way around or _both_. Whatever it is, it rises up and then crashes hard over you, and you feel your pain and pleasure both hit new heights as your hips stutter against him and you cry out into his mouth, vividly smelling the metallic tang on his breath as the world before your rolling eyes seems to glisten brightly wherever it’s lit in silvers and whites against the dark blue of the night.

Dirk shakes and growls, a bestial sound that goes straight to your core in horrifically arousing ways, his shaft twitching and throbbing against your sensitive skin as he either shares in your climax or reaches his own; you don’t know which it is, you don’t _care_ , all you know is Dirk and he’s all you want, to tear him to pieces and rip out his throat and kiss him and fuck him and you don’t _know_ anymore, you don’t _know_ what you’d do, but whatever it is you need him and you know it in every fibre of your freshly corrupted soul.

The demon stills as you begin to breathe again, gulping down long gasps of welcome air that break with a pained whine when he slides out of you, softening and lengthening while he draws back. Unable to contain your curiosity, you push yourself up on shaking arms, staring down at the sticky liquid that glistens over your shaft and thighs, mixing with the cloudy pool still connected to your twitching tip by a single thread, and leading down the finely scaled black thing that sits between his legs, coiling and flashing a smooth amber belly at you before it recedes and he catches your attention as you try to decide where it’s vanishing into.

His fingers tilt your head up to meet his, and he plants a longer kiss to your lips, slow and loving and full of mocking victory in a way that only he could manage. You surrender to it, unsure if there would be any point even trying to refuse, but sure that once this moment has passed and all of this is less fresh you will still find reason to argue and fight, even when you have been so completely beaten.

Dirk pulls away from you and rises to his feet calmly, unaffected by all of this like you’ve been, your legs too shaky to even consider standing so swiftly. He collects his clothes and dresses with his back to you, leaving you shivering and naked, the cold starting to creep across you, until you grope for your own clothes and wince at the tears in them, but start to unsteadily dress nonetheless.

"Now what?" You ask, voice raspy and weak. Dirk snorts, looking down to you with glowing amber eyes that look you over with an obvious possessiveness that both angers you and _pleases_ you, in some dark little corner of yourself you refuse to admit exists.

"Now we go and we collect your little friend, and then do whatever inane, _goodly_ thing you would no doubt do to protect the rest of them." He rolls his eyes, but some of his mocking tone is gone, replace by something more casual. "I suppose there’s plenty of time to get you into more interesting shit, so I’ll settle for doing what you want for now. I’ve got _plans_ for you, Jake… All of this is only the beginning."

"You’ve been waiting for this, though," you hazard, and he chuckles, turning and swaying off towards the entranceway with a gait not unlike a cat that’s recently been given fresh cream. "It’s funny how it happened, isn’t it?"

"Hm?" Dirk pauses in opening the door, silhouetted against the brighter light from outside with his back to you and his talons drifting across the old wood.

"You always do things as a pack, you and Roxy. Funny how this time you weren’t involved, that you just happened to be here when I needed you."

He knows what you’re implying, and you watch him carefully as you finally stagger to your feet, desperate for a shower but knowing there’s far more important work to do first. The demon stays still, for a few beats that stretch to an eternity, before he looks back to you, eyes bright and the moonlight throwing the terrifying grin on his face into stark contrast, an involuntary shudder shooting down your spine.

Without a word, he turns away and slips into the night. You stare at the space he left, swallowing down the bile in your throat, before realising it doesn’t matter and letting out an empty laugh. It doesn’t matter, if he did this, Jane is still in trouble and you still had no choice. He had you in checkmate through playing both sides of the board, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

Your laughter comes again, in little stuttering giggles that break into a louder, manic burst of noise, tears welling up in your eyes and running down your dirty cheeks.

Your name is Jake English, and Dirk is right.

No matter what you thought, you were damned right from the start.


End file.
